


Bugs

by Amymel86



Series: The Outside [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Soldier!Jon, continuation of previous fic, dystopian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: She’s quiet again for a long, long while, her strides are shorter, she’s barely awake on her feet. “I want to be able to trust you,” she says, eyes watching the forest floor that they navigate.“But you don’t.”
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: The Outside [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929445
Comments: 20
Kudos: 118
Collections: Jonsa Autumn Drabbles 2020





	Bugs

**Author's Note:**

> heeeylo!
> 
> So... I'm shoehorning this into the jonsadungeonsanddrabbles autumn event under the prompt 'dark nights'.... well, it does happen at night so....
> 
> This is the third fic in my 'The Outside' series and to make sense of it, you will need to have read the others.

“The safest way is to sleep close.”

“No.”

That answer had perplexed him. He knew he was correct. His training had taught him so.

“If we light a fire, it’s as good as a beacon announcing our whereabouts. Those factory workers have raised the alarm at our escape, no doubt.”

“I’m not cuddling up to you for warmth,” the woman – _Sansa_ – said, boots trudging through the undergrowth beside him. She was clearly tired and letting her low energy preserves cloud her judgement. “We can just keep walking.”

 _Jon_ could keep walking. But Sansa was showing clear signs of fatigue. As a Crow, Jon was taught to look after his brothers – the outcomes of their campaigns relied on each and every one of them. This is no different. If Sansa is too tired to make intelligent, informed decisions in the daylight hours then it could put their mission in danger.

“You can sleep. I will keep watch. We will just share warmth and then –“

She halts and spins to face him, taking Jon aback a little. She looks fierce. It does odd things to his stomach. “I’m not falling asleep in your arms so you can cop a feel, ok?”

Jon raises his hands in surrender. “Ok,” he says. Sansa starts walking again and Jon follows. She will constantly inspire questions, it seems.

“Sansa?” he asks after a time.

“What?”

“What is... _‘cop a feel’_?”

She throws an odd look at him but continues to walk, carefully negotiating tree roots and forest debris. Instead of answering his question, she asks one of her own. “Don’t you know anything about being normal?”

Jon knows what’s normal for him. Obeying orders, combat training, physical fitness training, survival training, active combat, but above and beyond all else; _obeying orders_. Is he to obey her orders now? Why does that sound more appealing than it should?

He had been quiet beside her when she finally relents. “ _Copping a feel_ is touching someone... in an intimate way.”

Jon’s thoughts flew back to having Sansa’s hand cupping him through his fatigues. There was a tingle at the memory. It was like she was touching him all over again. He began to harden.

“Why did you crows capture me anyway?”

Sansa’s query ceases his train of thought so immediately that he finds his feet stopping too. She turns to look at him, the moonlight filtering through the trees is scarce but he can see the tiredness on her face.

“You normally steal the baby boys. You’ve never touched the girls.... and I’m a fully grown woman... I thought-“

 _We steal the boys?_ “You thought?”

She starts walking again, her boots heavy on the ground. “I thought you were going to do bad things to me.”

Gritting his teeth, Jon follows. He _knew_ what they wanted him to do with her felt wrong. “They wanted me to do... things to you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

She’s quiet again for a long, long while, her strides are shorter, she’s barely awake on her feet. “I want to be able to trust you,” she says, eyes watching the forest floor that they navigate.

“But you don’t.”

Sansa doesn’t answer.

It’s the dawning hours when he finally convinces her to sleep. She does so, still refusing to stay close to use his warmth as they stop on a rocky outcrop looking over the forest. Jon gives her his jacket and, finding a nearby fir tree, strips it of its lower branches to pile on top of her as best he can for insulation. She mumbles some sleepy complaint about bugs that makes him smile. “Better bugs than hypothermia.”

“Gross.” Her eyes are still closed but she’s brushing her fingers through that nice campfire hair of hers. “Are they in my hair?”

A quiet chuckle escapes Jon’s lips. He can’t remember the last time he’d laughed. “No, nothing’s in your hair,” he whispers.

“They’re in my hair,” Sansa grumbles, turning away from him. Jon doesn’t think he’s ever argued with anyone while they were asleep.

“There’s no bugs. Go to sleep.”

“Get them out.”

Jon reaches over, fingers hovering over her temple. A one inch movement and he’d be stroking his fingers through that tempting hair of hers. It looks like silk. He holds his breath. Behind him, the sunrise is streaking the sky with burnt oranges and golden highlights, chasing away the indigo night.

 _“I’m not falling asleep in your arms so you can cop a feel, ok?”_ Jon remembers her warning from earlier, retracts his hand and scoots away. He leans up against the trunk of the fir tree and wonders how he could earn Sansa’s trust as the cold, rough bark bites at his back. In The Watch he is ordered to trust his brothers and so he does. They all complete the same training, they’re all working together to achieve a shared goal.

Well, he shares the same goal as Sansa now too; to see her safely back to her people. He wishes she would believe the truth of it.

He watches her, eyes drooping, the lulling call of slumber, making everything feel heavy. He distantly wonders – _hopes_ \- that his jacket will have her smell on it when she gives it back. Or she could keep it. Jon doesn’t think he would mind that at all. He very nearly dozes off when a small green light starts flashing beneath the skin of his forearm making him jolt to wide awake and on his feet in seconds flat. He’d forgotten about that – how could he be so stupid?!

The Watch is tracking him.


End file.
